


Aftermath

by Res



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-03
Updated: 2003-07-03
Packaged: 2017-10-20 23:04:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/218057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Res/pseuds/Res
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Aftermath of Threadfall</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes and Disclaimer: Pern isn't mine and Pern fanfiction was authorized by Anne McCaffery, the owner of the world and universe of Pern. So...these really ARE mine! Amazing!
> 
> Notes: Telgar 5's zine had a section specifically for drabble type vignettes, and we/they did one to be printed around Memorial Day -- I thought I'd submit one in that theme. We always get to see the winners, in stories, and never see what happens after the war, to both winners and losers.

**  
"Aftermath"   
**

__

  
There were dragons, dragons flying o'er the world  
Blues, greens, browns and bronze  
And low in the sky there flew a wing of gold

The singer's voice wove through the crowd like a strand of molten copper, bright and warm, rousing and soothing all at once.

The singer sang of dragons diving, flaming, burning the Thread from the sky. He sang of dragons falling, dying, screaming as the Thread burned them from the sky. He sang of the holders below, watching, praying, as the dragons above protected the land and crops and people from the deadly silver rain, often with their very lives. The dragonriders around him were held, spellbound, as the song was brought to life by recent memories. Many turned away, sobbing, as they remembered friends and weyrmates lost. Others touched scars, feeling old pain anew. The untried shuddered, only able to imagine the sacrifices they had chosen the day they had stepped onto the hot sands.

They listened to the harper as he sang of the dragons' battle against the Thread. The battle he sang of had happened years, decades, perhaps even centuries before, but might as well have been the same battle that had been fought just this morning over Telgar Hold.

As the song ended the Weyrleader stood, raising his glass. "A toast!" he cried. "A toast to honor all who will never fly again."

The assembled weyrfolk stood and raised their glasses, fists and voices. "TO ALL WHO WILL NEVER FLY AGAIN!" The glasses were lowered and their contents shared and emptied as the dragons around the Bowl, blue, green, brown, bronze and gold, trumpeted, the sound echoing and re-echoing and echoing again, seeming to shake the very stone until it faded into silence. A silence that was broken only by the cries of the wounded and the mourning.

 

End


End file.
